Crazy Detective - Chapter 2630

“I’ll say it again, I’m not really a genius singer, nor a genius creator! I have no love for singing! My ideal is to be a carpenter!”

“But Mr. Xu, you have won the Grand Slam of awards, and your albums have accumulated the world’s number one sales! Your lyrics and production have won so many kings and queens with one hand! You are considered by everyone to have crushed one by yourself. era!”

“Didn’t you agree to talk about woodworking? Don’t you want to do it?”

“No, boss! But this is your TV station, you have to think about the ratings! Everyone just wants to hear how awesome you are, not your woodworking hobby! The story of being banned?…Okay, okay, can we talk about last year’s rich list? We all know that there are four Chinese women in the top 50 of the world’s richest list, all of them are single, and it is rumored that they are all single with you…”

“Actually, woodworking is very interesting, let’s talk about woodworking!”

“Why don’t we talk about An Xiaojing An Tian? Everyone is very curious. She is not married, but her three children are all surnamed Xu, and…”

- Description from novelbuddy

In the most popular 3D keyboard online game “Tomorrow”, an ordinary player, Zhang Zhiyin has a less common hobby–that is to visit Dr. Y, the ultimate boss – giving him gifts and hugs.

The aliens came with hostility.
Facing the invasion of aliens, human beings are weak like ants.
So this is the end, the real end.
But there is resistance when there is an invasion.
For some, this is not the end, it is war.
So this is war.
Real war!

- Description from Qidian

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”